Beecher, surprised, nodded and made his way toward the end that had been converted into a frontier saloon, where, behind enormous mustaches, he recognized the long features of his fellow lodger. "What’ll y’have?" said Lynch, in hoarse accents. Then, perceiving that he was recognized, he drew Beecher aside and said anxiously: "You owe me fifty, Ted; we pulled it out. Go over and stake it at the table for me, if you’ve got it." "Sorry," said Beecher, eying him critically and resolving to lie. "Oh, well," said Lynch philosophically, "it’ll look big as a house to-morrow." "Are you cleaned out, Bo?" said Beecher anxiously. "Oh, no; I’m worth thousands," said Lynch, with a grin, "until the market opens to-morrow." "Tough luck." "Steve Plunkett’s worse—he’s got to negotiate his gold fillings, they say." A party came up, clamoring for attention, and Lynch hastened to the rescue. Beecher continued curiously toward the faro table, admiring with an admiration tinged with compassion the _sang froid_ of the losers, who in a desperate attempt to recover the imminent loss of the morrow, were staking sums that made the spectators raise their eyebrows in amazement. "Supposing that Jap came back and sneaked the ring the second time," said Gunther, taking his arm. Beecher started in surprise. "I wasn’t thinking of that," he said. "But I was. That puzzle of yours has been running in my head ever since. I’ve got six people now absolutely logically worked out for the thief—perfect deduction. Take me over to Mrs. Kildair; I want to meet that woman." "I say, Bruce," said Beecher as they started to cross the room, "it’s going to be an awful smash. All the boys are caught. There’ll be the deuce to pay here later on." "Shouldn’t wonder—they started in pretty fierce." "Eat, drink, and be merry—eh?" "Sure." By the hazards of the crowd they found themselves opposite Nan Charters, who was on the arm of Charlie Lorraine, a clean-cut, pleasant type of the racing set, decidedly handsome in a dark way. "Hello, fellows, any old clothes to give away?" said Lorraine, who had the topic of the evening in jest. "I speak first. How the deuce did Eddie Fontaine miss you two? Heard what we are doing? We are organizing the Eddie Club. Every one who’s taken his tip is going up to live on Eddie’s farm for the winter—great idea, eh?" While Gunther and Lorraine were laughing over this plan, a creation of Bo Lynch’s, Beecher was listening to Nan Charters, with a difficult attempt at calming the sudden emotion which her appearance with Lorraine had fired within him. "What a dreadful time you chose to call!" she said directly. "Don’t you know that it takes a modern woman hours to mix her war-paint?" She looked at him with a little tantalizing malice in her eyes. "Coquette," he thought furiously. "She is delighted because I was ass enough to call and give her the opportunity to refuse to see me."